Little Lost Shadow
by caitewarren
Summary: Peter Pan had always been her favorite growing up. She didn't give a damn about the damsels in distress locked away towers or victims of powerful sleeping curses waiting for a Prince, some man, some person to come rescue them. Emma Swan, her family and a disheartened Hook travel to Neverland in search of Henry only to discover the dark secrets that lurk in the Captain's past.


_Peter Pan _had always been her favorite growing up. She didn't give a damn about the damsels in distress locked away towers or victims of powerful sleeping curses waiting for Prince Charming, some _man_, some _person _to come rescue them. If there was anything foster care had taught her was that you could only ever count on yourself.

The idea of a boy coming to her window at night and taking her away to Neverland to be _free _was enticing; she'd often fantasized becoming the only "Lost Girl" and not being as foolish as Wendy to leave them behind in pursuit of this world to grow up and to be all on her lonesome. The Lost Boys and Peter were a family. They didn't need a mother or a father to care for them or to tuck them in at night, did they long for one yes but they managed to survive.

"Are you all right?" a voice breaks her thought pattern dragging her back into the hysteria that was her life now. Captain Hook himself stood at the doorway. His features laced with concern raising one of his eyebrows at her.

She gave him her best "you're-joking-right?" looks. Whilst turning back to turning the small handheld telescope in her hands in a feverish manor attempting to spare her mind from wondering to the worst possible case scenarios possible all ending with Henry's death.

Hook sighed, "right." He's changed since she'd knocked him aside the head with an umbrella stand. Not quite as cocky rather he seemed to be aloof and distant. He only half-heartily bantered with her father, his sexual innuendoes whilst annoying were kept to a minimum and he didn't once mutter the word _crocodile _or seem to care at all that his mortal enemy was aboard his beloved ship. He staggered further his good hand clutching at his chest as he grimaced in pain, "if it's any consolation the Lost Boys probably found him. They'll take care of him."

There was a fondness detectable in his wavering voice as a distant look sprawled across his features as if recalling some sort of nostalgia like he did upon the beanstalk. Apparently the real life version of Hook did not spend his days fearful of a literal crocodile and planning ways to best Pan. _Another screw-up there Disney_. She thought snidely to herself.

"Why are you in my office?" he asked shifting his weight back and forth as he attempted to lower himself into the wooden cot. She gulped and quickly placed down the small telescope on the desk as she ran a hand throughout her hair. Unconsciously in her sleep deprived state she'd let herself wonder into the door at the end of the sleeping corridor. It wasn't exactly what she expected to be a Pirate's office. The walls were lined with shelves, upon shelves of old leather bond books. He didn't exactly strike her as one for reading. Knick-knacks memoirs of adventures on the high sea littered the top of the shelves and hung from the ceilings.

"Why aren't you driving the ship?" she countered hoping she wouldn't have to give him an answer.

"The currents are driving us to shore now." He said exasperated as he staggered forward his good hand supporting his aching body as he limped to the cot on the northern end of the room. Sleep was calling to him.

A pang of guilt dug deep into her stomach nestling itself in there. The car accident had only happened maybe three or four weeks. Ribs took much longer time to heal and reacquired bed rest among pain medications. He'd been on his feet mere days afterwards, traveling to New York, hit upon the head with an Umbrella stand and taken as a prisoner.

"You're starring Lass," Hook murmured quietly, "I know you can't help it." he quipped half-heartily letting out a barking cough as he attempted to find a comfortable position on the cot. All sort of dignity had been lost as he tucked his knees up and turned away from her. And honestly he did not care. Not even a little bit. He was done with life, revenge and everything else that entailed it. 300 hundred years wasted. And he had not one person in the world who cared for him. The crocodile had Belle and his son sort of.

He looked like a small, lost and confused child Emma mused to herself. At that moment that tugged heavily at her heart as she thought of her own child, lost and confused in a land unknown to him. Something compelled her to stand there and watch as he drifted off to slumber. An old ratty blanket lay folded at his feet and with slight hesitation she unfolded and threw it over him fighting every urge to tuck in the corners like she'd do for Henry.

"Good night Killian."

**The Next Morning**

Neverland was everything she'd ever imagined it to be. From the tree covered mountain tops, to the puffy-like clouds that Wendy, Peter, John and Michael laid upon watching as Hook fired up cannonballs, the glimmering water where she was sure mermaids were watching from deep below the bottomless lakes, the thick dense forest that gave home to the Lost Boys. _Henry_. She reminds herself. _Henry._ She's not here for any mermaids or lost boys or fairies she's here to save her son.

Upon Rumpelstiltskin's suggestion of splitting up to cover the dense areas of Neverland, she and Hook ended up together traversing the dense forest of Neverland in search of the Lost Boys' home. Eerily Hook hadn't said much after they embarked on their trip. Rather uncharacteristically he seemed to be rather jumpy always glancing behind him every few moments as if expecting Peter Pan to attack him or something of the sorts.

"You know most woman would find your silence as off-putting," Emma coyly said, "but I love a challenge." She said attempting to imitate his accent which if she'd have to guess sounded like an Irish one but since he did not hail from the Green Isle she'd settled for a Neverlandish accent. She watched his face for some sort of a reaction but found him still stoic and brooding as he navigated through trees and over logs, "is it being here that changes you?" she pried picking up her pace to match that of his own. There was a slight variation in his expression, a brief flickering of pain, remorse and regret. Out of the corner of her eyes she caught something glowing in the distance, it's eyes glowing white orbs, "what the hell is that?!"

He halted in his steps, "that Emma is a shadow. I thought you knew this story."

The shadow flew up to the lighted side of a mountain. _ Peter Pan_. This was freakin Peter Pan's shadow. The shadow mockingly placed it's hands on the side of it's heads and began wriggling them. His agitation was evident by the way he fidgeted glaring up at the shadow.

"Cut it out!" he yelled harshly at it.

"Lost your shadow again ehh mate?" a boy's voice drawled out from behind them. A boy no older than perhaps fourteen or fifteen dressed in ragged clothing, barefoot with a thin layer of mud and dirt caked into his skin, his hair would have been light in color had it not be matted in mud and his eyes were auburn in color and fixated upon Killian.

**A/N: Maybe this piece was a tad bit OOC but I think Hook has realized he has nothing(aside from Emma) but revenge. And I am just plain too excited for next Sunday and I support Killian Jones=Pan. Anyway please enjoy. **


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